


Confessions of a Hapless Gnome

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Cooper's Gnome, Crack, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e07 Zal Bin Hasaan, Gen, GnomeGate, Happy Season 4!, the gnome speaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Once upon a time I sat peacefully in the front garden of Assistant Director Cooper, and then... I had a little run in with one Special Agent Donald Ressler.
   Oh well... It's not always an easy life, being a gnome. This story ©Gnorm the Gnome. The person who penned this is not Gnorm. Promise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure. I am NOT the Gnome. 
> 
> However, lets say that hypothetically I had a mystical message from the Gnome in the dead of the night... and that this hypothetical request was to write our dear, poor, unfortunate sweet Gnorm his biography - I mean, _publish_ his _autobiography_ , of course... 
> 
> Well, who would I be to refuse? (Note that was hypothetical. Don't ask. I can neither confirm nor deny.)
> 
> This, ladies and gentlemen, is entirely endorsed by the Real Gnorm. 
> 
> If you have no idea what I am talking about, go and look at [coopers-blacklist-gnome](http://coopers-blacklist-gnome.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> **Credit for the idea (and the first two lines... and the wings) to the aforementioned Gnome. Credit to[askharoldcooper](http://askharoldcooper.tumblr.com/) for the name Gnorm. And credit to nbc Blacklist for everything else. :) **

Once upon a time I sat peacefully in the front garden of Assistant Director Cooper, and then... I had a little run in with one Special Agent Donald Ressler.

Oh well... It's not always an easy life, being a gnome.

Not easy at all.

Sure, it might look simple to all you ~~bumbling~~ (well, I want to say _giants_ , but— let’s keep it PC, yeah?) beautifully imperfect big people, since all we gnomes do is sit about doing nothing.

Seemingly.

I mean I think a lot of the slightly smaller humans on the street sit around doing nothing all afternoon - apparently it’s called _homework_ \- but I’ve heard frequently and loudly that it is difficult and important stuff. I do difficult and important stuff too.

It’s called watching out for the garden. I mean, do you _know_ all of the horrors that are out there? The things in the night, waiting to devour the innocent bushes and rip apart the beautiful flower petals?

Me neither, but whatever they are, they won’t get past me.

Don’t be fooled by the welcome sign I hold. That is a deadly welcome sign. It will lull the bad guys into a false sense of security and then — well, that sign is a heavy piece of wood, you know. It will help me defend my garden.

Or whatever it is I decide to defend.

Which, for the majority of my (let’s be honest) cut short life, was that garden.

After all, you don’t need to know the particulars of my life - of being born fully grown into an army of thousands, knowing that nothing could possibly get through all of us - to being separated into units, to defend our own regions - and finally, being cruelly ripped away from my comrades, ripped away from… (no _don’t think about it_ ) —stranded in unknown territory to defend my patch alone.

But it is _my_ patch.

I have watched many big fleshy humans come and go from my post, but only two of them are mine. The Man (if he can be called that with his smooth face) and The Woman. They both live in the house, and they help care for my garden.

Well, The Woman does. The Man once drove over the petunias.

I have never forgotten that.

Sometimes they look happy together. They used to all the time - it used to make me ache for the beautiful…

_Don’t. It’ll be painful. Don’t think about it._

Other big people sometimes came to the house, though not very often, and most of the time they were walking slowly, they stayed off my grass, and they didn’t touch my flowers.

But once day, an Angry Man came.

Let me clarify. I don’t call him Angry because of his own personality, not at all - but because he made The Man angry. But I liked him, because even though he was a big person he was at least making an effort to grow a beard, unlike The Man - who's poor facial hair was constantly struggling against that odd human custom of shaving it.

It was nowhere near as majestic as my own, of course, but at least he’s _trying_.

Anyways. So one day this brown-bearded man that made The Man angry came along. They put the black car in the car house. That was a bit weird, since it wasn’t The Man’s car, but it wasn’t driving over my charge and so I let it be.

That was a mistake.

I will admit to being curious when the shouts started, but it wasn’t until The Woman raced out of the house, headed for the house next door and then raced back - _completely_ forgetting to avoid the small patch of regrowing grass the ~~uncivilised~~ poor stressed _big person._

Whatever was going on in the house, it was Serious Stuff. But not garden destroying stuff - I saw no ‘oops-i-forgot-to-check-the-strength’ weed killer and no ‘those-roses-need-to-go’ spades, so I let it be.

Mistake.

I mean, seriously, you’d think I would have learned about letting things be. Last time that I thought it was all fine, that I thought I had all the time in the world… well, I never even got to speak Gnomely to her, did I?

_Don’t. Not worth it._

Anyway.

Things were quiet for a while after that, and I thought all would be fine. I mean sure, there was a bit of shouting but when is there not? And yeah, that rumour about plants being able to sense negative energy— totally true. Stay happy around plants. But I am of the firm belief that a good wall is all the protection that plants need, so still - nothing to worry about.

Another black car was a bit worrying though, but it missed my garden, all was good. I gave the Ginger in the Suit a good glare as he went past. He looked slightly… _disreputable,_ and I thought I might have to worry for the petunias.

But it was a false alarm.

Clearly, my first impression was wrong - even if he had a smooth face.

And I didn’t mind the shouting - I never do, I know I already told everyone that (and don’t let the white hair fool you, I never forget a thing) - but when they came outside and there was no longer a wall separating the plants from the negativity - well, what if the plants drooped? I can’t let Gnorton down the road to overtake me in the best protected garden awards. I’ve only got a couple of months left until the final assessment. Those flowers need to be _perfect_.

Why do humans have such a preoccupation with sound and movement anyway? You can see so much more if you stand perfectly still - there are no flailing limbs to obstruct your vision, and it’s tricky to be snuck up on when you can hear every little noise.

Every Gnome knows that.

Big people, somehow, don’t.

No wonder they can’t look after their gardens by themselves.

But these humans… they had a special brand of movement. All pushing and shoving and - _STAY OFF THE PETUNIAS YOU ~~OAFS~~ WRETCHES_ \- well.

I was cheering for Brown-Beard.

I mean, okay, yeah, he was the one who started it. _Maybe_. And morally, for that reason, I was cheering for Ginger, but he didn’t have a beard _at all_ so it just wouldn’t be right, would it?

And THEN he shoved Brown-Beard against the car.

I’m all for settling differences in whatever manner deemed necessary - I mean if a plant-eating-zombie (I saw them in the Home-Depot. They are terrifying.) came into my garden I would take to it with my welcome sign and no regrets - but not near a garden. That’s just not decent.

And _certainly_ not when innocents are involved.

That poor car had nothing to do with their violent altercation. And yet the poor thing was clearly injured. It was shouting out in pain, begging, pleading for them to stop - and yet they didn’t.

Ginger shoved and Brown-Beard shouted and they were both complicit, I wasn’t cheering for a single one any more, and if I could speak the primitive language of the humans I would be shouting myself.

But in a calm, positive manner. I was _in_ the garden, after all.

So I sent my charges happy thoughts and glared my best glare at the big people - no, you know what, stuff PC, these _buffoons_ were putting _my garden_ at risk - still stomping about and shouting and shoving and the poor car was still screaming—

It was another shout that stopped it, but I wasn’t going to complain, considering.

Good old Harold.

I mean.

Ahem.

The Man.

He might have saved me (and, more importantly, the garden), but I still hadn’t forgiven him for driving over the—

 

 

It was very sudden.

That’s my answer to the question that I know you’re about to ask. The question that no _living_ being can ever answer, not properly. But I can tell you.

And it was sudden.

Very sudden.

My Name is Gnorm. I am a Gnome.

Let my story be a lesson to you all - be wary of ~~cold hearted Blacklist writers~~ Ginger Government Agents In A Rage - and keep positive, because seriously you can never predict when a ~~giant~~ \- sorry - _big_ shoe will come along and—

Well. I don’t want to give anyone nightmares. I do like to spread positivity, after all.

I have my share of regrets. I never got to thank Harold for what he did in my final moments. I never got to tell him that even though he _drove over the petunias_ , I forgave him, really…  because he had been in a rush that day because his wife was sick - and I knew the power of all _that_.

I never got to tell her how I felt. The beautiful she-Gnome on the opposite shelf in the aisle of the Home Depot garden section. I never knew her name - we never even spoke. But she was beautiful, and I thought of her as Daisy, for the bright yellow colour of her hair. It was more painful to be torn from her than it was to be ripped from my comrades...

I also never got to look at Agent Ressler from below a shadowed hood, while I growled out in a deep, scary voice: “I am watching you, Donald.”

(I feel like that one should maybe be lower on my priority list.)

Perhaps I’ll get the opportunity to fix these, though. Maybe I’ll get another chance.

You see, I have transcended my old purpose to become a guardian of a much larger garden, filled with even more beautiful and colourfully unique flowers. They spread all across the globe, supporting each other with messages of hope even when their ~~favourite characters get unfairly written off.~~

Okay. No, let’s stop there. I might be all happy now, living in the moment, preaching peace and compassion and complimenting little dogs (shout out to Hudson) but come on. This flower metaphor is getting out of hand.

Suffice to say that I am now The Blacklist's mischievous angel, watching over the fandom and wishing everyone a Happy Season 4! Like Santa Claus, but less merry and more cheeky.

Hope you got that last part. Don’t mess with me.

Be happy… or else.

Nah, only kidding. Go, be free, my lovely blossoms. (Seriously though. Be positive. The plants are counting on you.)

Happy Season 4 to all (even Ginger, you beardless… big person),

And to all a good night!

(Hope you all saw what I did there.)

Gnorm out.

 

 

 


End file.
